


Metempsychosis

by j_gabrielle



Category: Kingsman, The King's Man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Do not copy this to another site, Don't copy this to another site, Established Relationship, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-07-29 00:56:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20073478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: Hades searches through time and space for his Persephone.[a.k.a. Gab's self-indulgent explorations of stringing together every single AU that she can get with the projects that Harris and Ralph has done in the past]





	1. The Beginning at The End

**Author's Note:**

> **Metempsychosis** (Greek: μετεμψύχωσις) is a philosophical term in the Greek language referring to transmigration of the soul, especially its reincarnation after death. [source: [Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metempsychosis#cite_note-2)] (yes I _know_ but I needed a clear road through all the literature and Wiki gave me that)
> 
> This work is a compilation of (sometimes vaguely) interconnected one-shots of how Hades searches and loves his Persephone through all of time and space.
> 
> Tags and rating to be revised. I don't have a posting schedule but I hope to be done with this by the end of 2019. Hopefully.

"Find me. You follow me and you find me."

She kisses him, strong and steadfast, and he tastes the sweet sunshine of spring and his heartbreak. He surges in to cup her by the cheeks. Promising without words because there is none that could stopper the pain welling up in him.

All around them, he feels his domain mourn the loss of their Queen.

They part and he holds her tight, desperation colouring every breathless way he etches her warmth, her love for him, everything about her onto his ageless bones. He commits her to his memory; the shape of her face, the way she speaks with her eyes, even as he guides her onto her boat. Charon helps her the rest of the, bowing when his Lord pays him. She smiles, bright like the sun, nodding once as he takes a step back.

"I will care for her, My Lord." 

He thanks the ferryman. He touches the wood of the prow, before pushing the boat out onto the inky darkness of the river. He keeps his eyes fixed on her, and Persephone on him until even her shadow disappears into the dark.

Zeus comes soon after in a rumble of subdued lightning and thunder.

"You're doing the right thing." Hades doesn't have to look to see that his brother's divinity has faded and barely lights the space between them, where in the past, his presence would have cast light to the darkest corners of his domain.

The gods of Olympus are dying and this is the only way to keep her safe. The world of men has turned from their altars and their worship. Time has run out for them.

"So why does it feel like I'm losing her?" 


	2. Flowers bloom with no regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Inspired by Hypnotized by Years & Years](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GAoQQHK1umM), specifically as used in the [ERDEM X H&M collab 'The Secret Life of Flowers'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PEANC3ipyws)
> 
> Super fun fact, the main guy Adam in that collab vid is Ralph Fiennes' nephew and the one who played the younger version of Voldemort. ([you can check the bts here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y_ql-hEX9lQ))

Reddham Gardens turn out to be a sanctuary where Spring lives on eternally. One of those forgotten grand houses, it had looked sad and forlorn when they had driven up from the gates. But inside, Conrad can't quite believe his eyes when he steps through the veritable wildflowers, vines, and greenery that carpet the foyer. In here, there is no vestige of the cold Winter that rages on outside of it. It was as if time stood still for Reddham; holding everything in a suspended fantasy that came alive in its walls.

"There's someone I want you to meet." His companion smiles, beckoning him through. He hadn't quite believed his gall when he said yes to following his new acquaintance to visit his home. No one knows where he had chosen to go for the weekend, but somehow Conrad doesn't think it was going to matter.

Somewhere above them, they hear footsteps descending the grand staircase. They look up; his companion with a besotted gleam in his eyes, he with breathless awe. The man wears a severe suit of midnight black threaded with tiny specks of diamonds to its cloth and with every movement he makes, the sunlight catches on the gem, casting starlight into their eyes.

"You have a beautiful home," Conrad hears himself say. "It's very unusual."

The man smiles serenely. His deep-set eyes regarding him with an intensity that fixes his feet to the spot. There was something about those eyes that has the world around them falling away.

"Normality is but a paved road," The man says as he continues to descend the stairs. "Comfortable to walk, yes. But no flowers grow on it."

Conrad watches him, hypnotised. The lilt of his voice echoes, making him seem almost god-like. His heart races and he finds himself urged to take a half shuffle of his shoes forward the moment the man takes the last step on the stairs.

"As for myself, I hold no preference amongst flowers," The man says, lips still curved in that serene smile as he passes them by. "As long as they are wild, free, and spontaneous." At that last word, the back of his hand brushes up to Conrad's and he has to stop himself from following, from reaching out and giving in to a sudden irrational need to touch.

The man stops then, tilting his head. Something in the curious coldness of the sadness in his eyes stirs an ache in Conrad. They regard him. Inscrutable and sparking with emotions that he feels resonating in himself.

"And what about you, young man?" The man asks, thin lips parting to show the incisors of his teeth. "What form do your pleasures take?"

Conrad is saved from answering when his companion laughs, dissipating the illusion that they were alone in this place. The man inclines his head, turning away to another room just beyond the towering blooms. Conrad finds that he wants to answer that question; there was a burning itch to give the man a response. The correct one that could right a wrong that he didn't even aware existed. 

But why he would even be feeling this way, Conrad does not know.


	3. Pygmalion

The man watches him from afar, always across the street from him. Never coming too close, never approaching. Jim debates walking right up to him and asking him right up if he can help him with something. Whether he needs his portrait painted, or if he needs to commission for something. To just strike up a conversation, because the prickle of vague unease is driving him to paranoia.

It isn't as if the man is intimidating or that he looks menacing, no. The man is middle-aged, always well-dressed, and holds himself with an otherworldly bearing that, despite himself, strikes Jim with a sense of familiar longing that sits heavy in his chest. All he does is watch him.

The man is there in the corner of his eye there when he exits the store with his groceries and his paints, there under the glow of the halogen streetlights under the soft rainfall in the middle of the night, there outside his studio window when he is working on his latest painting. And soon enough, he finds that he starts sketching the man during his warm-ups, gradually having the shadowed figure cropping up in the background of the crowd scenes of his landscapes, there when he paints, and one day he looks up to see that his latest works were all variations of the same unseen face, the same shape.

Eventually, it comes the day when he turns to see the man standing just across the road from him on a bright sunny day. Seized by a surge of need to go to him, he takes a step out onto the asphalt, and then another. And another.

Then. A scream, a screech, and the world turns, darkening.

The last thing he sees is the man walking closer to him.


	4. I'm just a poor boy in a rich man's house

The lure of the sun-drenched beach town lost its charm two days ago and the lush happiness of their villa in the thrall of their wedding is horrible and he hates it here with a passion. He wants to scream obscenities at the top of his lungs, break every fragile and delicate champagne flute, run away from everything in this stupid place, but he can't.

The glint of his wedding band is a cruel reminder of the child in her belly and the promise he made to her father.

So he smiles and smiles, drinks, laughs, and moves through the sultry summer heat with amiable farce and hides all the turbulence under his skin. Betraying nothing in the blues of his eyes. His bride laughs, seated in the midst of her friends, head thrown back, dark curls coiffed high on her head pinned by the veil. The swell of her midriff is hidden by the rise of her dress and the table cloth. She is happy. That makes one of them.

He dreads the thought of their wedding night; he could barely remember the night they supposedly conceived the babe, and what he could remember was hidden behind an alcohol haze. She was the daughter of the boss and he was just a junior exec, and their paths had only met over hor d'oeuvres at a company party. Then a month ago, she had called him up and told him the news.

His first and immediate reaction was to ask if it was his, but that was held back and immediately pushed aside when she proposes a business deal for him; a chance for him to rise in the senior ranks of her father's company and that it would be a marriage in name only. He would only be expected to smile and be paraded out to cameras and shareholders during special occasions, but when no one is watching, he is free to do whatever he wants - exercised with the utmost discretion.

Her father catches his eye, smiling, toasting him with an elegant roll of his wrist from where he is seated under the shade of the trees. He swallows tightly around the spark of arousal that runs up his spine. 

He turns away. It wouldn't do anyone any good to figure out that the groom was popping a boner for the father of the bride.

**Author's Note:**

> This gave me a lot of fun with playing headcanon and connect the roles with the things that Harris and Ralph have been in prior to this. I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I had fun writing this and concocting all the headcanons!  
\--  
I have never, will never, allow any reposting or translations of my works without my permission. All of my works will and shall only be hosted on my personal accounts on AO3 (j_gabrielle), Dreamwidth (j_gabrielle) and Tumblr (randomingoftherandomness, hardheartshere).
> 
> For those who say that I never said anything, it is clearly stated on my AO3 profile bio.
> 
> I do not have a Twitter account.
> 
> I do not have a Wattpad account.
> 
> **Please Do Not Repost My Fics**


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